


Do Not Go

by MostPreciousTreasures



Category: Emma (2020), Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff With A Little Porn, Fluff and Humor, Marzipan (Candy), One Shot, Post-Canon, Regency Romance, Travel, Waiting, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23962579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostPreciousTreasures/pseuds/MostPreciousTreasures
Summary: George had been away for some weeks and Emma was beginning to miss him quite terribly. He was traveling The Continent in order to gather information about the agricultural techniques of other countries - important work she gathered. But knowing that did not change her feelings - she missed him. She treasured his letters about tulips and windmills and looked forward to the day he would be back at their dinner table and back in her bed.
Relationships: George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse
Comments: 13
Kudos: 217





	Do Not Go

**Author's Note:**

> I've gotten several requests for a story about "what was Knightley going to say to Emma after the ball" - that canon-divergent story will be coming soon (maybe a multi-chapter?), but for now I wanted to try to address it in a slightly unconventional way.

George had been away for some weeks and Emma was beginning to miss him quite terribly. He was traveling The Continent in order to collect information about the agricultural techniques of other countries - important work she gathered. But knowing that did not change her feelings - she missed him. She treasured his letters about tulips and windmills and looked forward to the day he would be back at their dinner table and back in her bed.

On the day that he was to return, Emma was filled with energy and could not set her mind on any one task. She tried attending to her plants, embroidery, discussing that evening’s meal with the cook, but nothing would do to calm her. She decided to visit the Weston’s, hoping to find their conversation most diverting. But alas, they only wanted to talk of George and the letters he had written them - and to say to Emma that she must be so excited to have him return that evening. She did not stay long.

Later that night, Emma spent so long fussing over her appearance that her father had to come to her room himself to fetch her for dinner. She finally made her way downstairs and quietly ate her chestnut soup under her father’s wary eye.

“You are not coming down with an illness are you?,” he asked.

“No papa.”

“Hmm good, let us hope Mr. Knightley does not bring something contagious back with him.”

Emma sighed.

It was quite late when George finally arrived. Mr. Woodhouse had already gone to bed, but Emma insisted on staying up to greet him. However the day’s many anxieties finally caught up to her and as she sat in the drawing room near the warm fire, she soon found herself slipping into a deep sleep.

“Emma?,” a soft voice called.

“Hmmm?”

A gentle hand ran over her hair and then caressed her cheek. “I am back, my love.”

Emma opened her eyes and sat up, the fire was dying but she could clearly see her husband standing in front of her. He looked rumpled and travel-weary but altogether delighted to see her.

“George! How long have you been here?”

“I’ve only just arrived,” he assured her soothingly, “You were so peaceful I was almost sad to wake you. You looked like an angel.”

“I wanted to wait for you,” she said and then yawned rather loudly.

George smiled tenderly at her. “Let us go to bed.”

She nodded and took his hand as he led her upstairs.

Emma padded into their room and then remembered something, bringing a hand to her forehead. “Oh no, poor Biddy! I made her wait all night.”

“I’ve sent her to bed,” said George as he drew off his cravat.

“George!”

“I do believe I know how to undress my own wife,” he chuckled.

She blushed. “That will only lead to me wanting you.”

“You are too tired to want me,” he smirked.

“Not so!,” she began to protest, but then another yawn overcame her and she sat down upon the bed.

George smirked again as he walked over to her, then presented her with a short bow. “My lady, shall I prepare you for sleep?”

She nodded drowsily as he pulled her up. He kissed her softly and waited patiently as she took off her jewelry. Then he removed her outer layers and began on her stays. There was very little sensuality in it, his touch was brisk and efficient. Finally he drew her to a chair in order to remove her stockings, lightly caressing an ankle when he was through. He even helped her take down her hair and ran a brush through it gently.

Emma closed her eyes while he fiddled with her tresses. “I suppose this is how my dolls felt as I would dress and undress them endlessly.”

George made a light sound of agreement. “I was thinking of that - having never had a doll this is quite the thrill.”

Emma imagined George sternly scolding a tea party of dolls, in the manner of how he used to reprimand her, and the thought made her smile. _“Let Harriet marry Robert Martin, Miss Lady Violet, or I will not allow you to slide down the bannister or wade in the garden fountain after lunch.”_

All finished, George rubbed her shoulder lightly. “I have told Biddy and the others not to disturb us tomorrow - we shall have the whole morning all to ourselves.”

“Mmmm.”

Emma was still in the chair and suddenly George was bending down to hoist her up in his arms. 

“Mr. Knightley,” she said sleepily, already resting her head against his shoulder, “I am very able to walk on my own.”

“Indulge me then.”

He brought her to the bed and was about to lay her upon it when she laughed softly against his chest. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “What is it?”

Emma shook her head and drew a hand up to stroke the material of his shirt. “I imagine we must look like Robert Martin when I saw him holding a spring lamb once.”

George smiled at his silly wife. This was one of the qualities he had always loved about Emma - her vivid and untamed imagination. As he looked upon her in his arms, his heart tugged a little at the memory of how much he used to yearn for her. He laid her down gently. “Go to sleep.”

And so she did.

  
  


🌼🌼🌼

  
  


Emma awoke the next morning to a light rustling sound. She felt George placing several things around her and she reached out a hand to explore. Her fingers met ribbon and the smooth edges of a neat box. “Is it Christmas?”

She could hear the smile in George’s voice. “See for yourself.”

Emma opened her eyes and was met with the sight of many small boxes surrounding her person. They were all made of fine papers and the labels bore foreign languages. Emma tentatively lifted the lid on one to reveal twinkling candied fruits nestled inside. “Oh,” she breathed in pleasure.

“I dare say you will like the orange peel very much. And there are some very nice nuts in that one, licorice there, dried fruits...oh and marzipan,” said George as he pointed out the various packages.

Emma sat up to peruse her bounty. She selected a piece of marzipan shaped like a pig and gleefully took a bite. After letting the sweetness wash over her tongue, she asked, “Is this to be our breakfast then?”

George smiled naughtily. “I thought it best not to present you with these in front of your father.”

Emma huffed lightly. “Yes, you were quite right in that assumption.”

They spent the better part of an hour like that, eating sweets and lounging. George picked up his book and Emma settled against him. She looked out at the wonderful spread he had provided her with and thought suddenly of Miss Bates exclaiming _"Excellently contrived!”_ at the Crown Inn. It was an enjoyable thought, but it also made her remember something else.

“Mr. Knightley?”

“Mrs. Knightley?”

Emma snorted.

“Well,” said George, not taking his eyes off his book, “If you call me ‘Mr. Knightley’ I assume you are in the mood to tease me, my dear. And that makes me very inclined to tease you in turn.”

Emma laughed lightly and ran her hand over her husband’s stomach. “I only wished to garner your attention.”

He smiled down at his wife. “And you have it, most readily.”

She beamed back, then rested her head against his chest once more. “I...have a question I should like to ask you,” said Emma, rather shyly.

“Hmmm, then ask it,” George replied somewhat absentmindedly, which meant he had most likely returned to his book.

Emma took a deep breath. “After the Crown Inn ball...when you came to Hartfield...did you really stop to borrow a horseshoe?”

He was silent and she wondered if he had heard her, then she felt the rumble of his chest as he said “No.”

She felt her cheeks becoming hot. “...Then why did you come?”

“To kiss you.”

She turned her face up to him, eyes wide and searching. He had set aside his book and was looking back at her. He reached out a hand to gently smooth the hair at her temple.

“Are you shocked?”

“Yes!,” laughed Emma.

He smirked, but was blushing now too and his eyes were somewhat downcast. “I suppose I also intended to declare my love for you - but really I was just determined to have you back in my arms. So _determined_ that I ran all the way from town. But when I saw you, looking as beautiful as you did, I had not the courage for it. Then we were...interrupted,” he laughed ruefully, recalling Frank and Harriet’s untimely entrance.

Emma was quiet, mulling it all over. “But you said nothing.”

“Harriet’s sprain -”

“No,” interrupted Emma, “In the days after, you said nothing. You practically ignored me.”

“I thought you indifferent to my affections - you _begged_ Frank to stay that day. And told me to leave!”

“For Harriet!,” cried Emma, “For Frank to stay for Harriet! I thought her in love with _him_ then.”

“How was I to -”

“- And then you _yelled_ at me at Box -”

“Yes!,” exclaimed George, “And I would do it again! I should say you very much deserved it.”

Emma sat up. “You are infuriating.”

“As are you!”

Emma made to leave the bed but George stopped her. Then he was pulling her down to his mouth and kissing her passionately, pouring all his need and desire for her into the kiss.

“There,” he breathed when he pulled away, “There is the kiss I should have given you. The kiss I have given you many times over.”

She drew a hand into his hair. “Give it to me again.” He nodded earnestly and tugged her back to him. The next kiss was much lighter and sweeter.

“You taste of sugar and almonds,” smiled George.

Emma’s eyes sparkled at his words. “If I had asked you - _not_ Frank - to stay after the ball, would you have?”

“Of course. I would have stayed as long as you asked.”

She touched his cheek, rough with stubble. “Now I ask you to stay and am frequently rebuffed. Surely you are now satisfied?”

“Yes,” he murmured against her lips, “I especially love when you ask me in the morning when I rise for the day - after I have spent all night having my way with you and you remain naked in our bed. You are most hard to resist then.”

“George…,” Emma sighed as his hands came up to cradle her face.

“Ask me not to go, Emma.”

“Do not go,” she whispered. Then her husband was kissing her deeply and moving to lie on top of her.

“The sweets!,” Emma cried as the boxes he brought her were scattered across the bed.

George had been bunching up her shift but now swept an arm out to knock the offending items to the floor.

“George!”

“They will be fine,” he growled, pressing harder against her.

Emma moaned and opened her legs more to him. Soon they were both naked and she was on her stomach as he kissed her neck and back.

“You do not know,” he kissed her spine, “How I have missed you.”

“I dare say I have _some_ idea. For I missed you dearly. Every day.”

He kissed the soft flesh of her ass and it made her gasp. Then he turned her onto her back and moved down her body.

“George,” she murmured, “I have not washed…”

He looked up at her from between her legs. He kissed a thigh and spread her open a little wider. “It matters little to me.”

Emma began to protest but the words died in her throat when he put his mouth on her cunt and began to lick her steadily. She moaned lowly and clasped the pillow under her head. He was circling her clit so sinfully and exquisitely.

“You taste so sweet,” George sighed against her.

“All that sugar,” she offered helpfully before slipping her hands into his hair.

“No,” he said, drawing his mouth away from her as he slid his fingers deep inside her, “It is you.”

They did not leave the bed for quite some time.

**Author's Note:**

> How I imagined [Lady Violet](http://twonerdyhistorygirls.blogspot.com/2016/04/a-well-loved-georgian-doll-and-her.html)


End file.
